


Glistening Slick

by thistreasurehunter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy is tired, Clarke is in charge, Clarke makes Bellamy feel good, Erotic Massage, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Full body massage, Hand Jobs, Indirect prostate massage, Massage, Modern AU, Smut, romantic smut, soft and smutty, taking care of each other, unusual massage technique
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistreasurehunter/pseuds/thistreasurehunter
Summary: [...] She moved back down to the bottom of the bed and perched on the corner. She popped the cap of the bottle and poured some oil onto her hands. She placed the bottle within reach and then rubbed her hands together, warming the oil. She gently picked up Bellamy’s left foot and with broad strokes, spread the oil over the skin of his foot. Then balancing Bellamy’s foot on his fingers, Clarke used her thumbs to press into the underside of Bellamy’s foot, kneading the soft arch with a rhythmic press and slide, alternating between the thumbs of each hand.Bellamy signed. “As good as that feels Princess, you do know that’s not my shoulder, right? I mean, between medical school and art anatomy class and all the self-studying we’ve done together over the years, I’d have thought you’d have picked up a thing or two along the way.”“Are you actually sassing me right now?” Clarke quirked a smile.“Umhuh,” Bellamy hummed.“Bellamy,” Clarke said soothingly. “I’m going to help you relax. I’m in control. You literally only have one job right now: just lie there and take it.” [...]Or: Bellamy is stressed, so Clarke gives him an erotic, full body massage.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	Glistening Slick

For the third time tonight, Clarke saw Bellamy furrow his brows and roll his shoulders.

She frowned and focused her gaze on her boyfriend, studying his face.

They were sitting in the living room of their apartment, Clarke lazily watching a movie, volume down low, and Bellamy hunched at the other end of the sofa, his face lit by the light of the laptop on his lap, fingers sporadically tapping at the keyboard.

After another few of minutes of frustrated typing, Bellamy angrily hit backspace and brought his hands up to remove his glasses and scrub a hand across his face. He rolled his shoulder again and let out a frustrated groan.

“What’s up?” asked Clarke. “Thesis not coming on well?”

“Eugh, no” sighed Bellamy, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s so frustrating. I keep tying myself in knots with all the competing theories. And the more I try to untangle, the worse it gets.  
I’m writing myself into a hole and I think I’m losing sight of what I wanted to say in the first place.”

“Sounds like you need a break to me,” Clarke suggested.

Bellamy hummed dejectedly, pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his shoulder again.

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?” asked Clarke, concerned.

“Huh?” Bellamy frowned vaguely. “Oh, just a bit stiff, I guess. Guess I must have strained it while I was helping Miller and Monty move into their new place yesterday.” He put his glasses back on and frowned back at the screen. Clarke watched him dejectedly prod at the keyboard a few more times.

Clarke switched off the TV and stood up, holding her hand out to Bellamy. “Come on,” she said simply.

“What?” Bellamy asked distractedly, looking up at her.

“Come with me,” Clarke repeated softly.

“I should probably keep going with this…” Bellamy grimaced and trailed off.

“No,” Clarke said. “Hit save, close that laptop and come with me. You’ve got ages until that deadline and you clearly need a break. You’ll come at it fresh in the morning.”

Bellamy wavered.

“Come on, Bell,” Clarke smiled, “I’m going to take care of you.”

Bellamy looked up into her lovely, kind face and cracked. 

“Okay,” he said. 

He clicked a couple of times on the mouse pad and shut the lid of the laptop. Then he took Clarke’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Clarke led him down the hall and towards their bedroom, pausing to grab a couple of towels from the cupboard on the way.

“Oh,” Bellamy said, waggling his eyebrows and squeezing Clarke’s fingers, “taking care of me in the messy kind of way then?”

Clarke looked back at him. Despite his words, she could see the fatigue around his eyes and the lethargy in his limbs.

She squeezed back and quirked the corner of his mouth up in a smile. “Probably not in the way you’re thinking.”

Bellamy’s brows furrowed as Clarke led him into their bedroom. She left the overhead light off and instead flicked on a lamp and the room filled with a soft warm glow. She leaned over and pulled the duvet down and off, letting it fall in a heap at the foot of the bed.

“Clarke?” Bellamy said again.

“Sshh,” Clarke soothed, turning to Bellamy and running a hand tenderly down his cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you.”

Clarke unfurled a large towel and laid it flat in the middle of the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Then she turned to Bellamy, eyes soft and head tilted slightly to the side. “Let’s get those clothes off you,” she said. “I’m going to rub your back and sort out that muscle tension.”

Bellamy closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. “That,” he said slowly, “actually sounds amazing.”

Clarke grinned and helped Bellamy pull his tee over his head. Bellamy unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor, pooling around his feet. One foot at a time, he stepped out of them, balancing to pull off his socks. Bellamy’s hands went to the waistband of his boxers, but Clarke caught his wrist.

“This is about helping you relax and unwind,” she said. Bellamy nodded once and crawled onto the bed, placing his glasses carefully on the bedside table.

“Here, rest your pelvis on this,” Clarke said, taking a smaller towel, rolling it into a thin tube shape and placing it on the bed. “It’ll help with the alignment of your spine.”

Bellamy arranged himself on the bed, arms up, head resting on his folded forearms and his pelvis, slightly raised, positioned on towel roll. He breathed out a deep sigh.

“Just _this_ feels so good already,” he smiled.

“Good,” Clarke smiled back, her hand coming out to stroke the back of Bellamy’s head soothingly as she looked down at him. “Don’t fight it if you want to fall asleep, okay?”

“Mmm,” Bellamy hummed.

Clarke opened the bedside drawer and rummaged around inside before finally pulling out a small bottle.

She moved back down to the bottom of the bed and perched on the corner. She popped the cap of the bottle and poured some oil onto her hands. She placed the bottle within reach and then rubbed her hands together, warming the oil. She gently picked up Bellamy’s left foot and with broad strokes, spread the oil over the skin of his foot. Then balancing Bellamy’s foot on his fingers, Clarke used her thumbs to press into the underside of Bellamy’s foot, kneading the soft arch with a rhythmic press and slide, alternating between the thumbs of each hand.

Bellamy signed. “As good as that feels Princess, you do know that’s not my shoulder, right? I mean, between medical school and art anatomy class and all the self-studying we’ve done together over the years, I’d have thought you’d have picked up a thing or two along the way.”

“Are you actually sassing me right now?” Clarke quirked a smile.

“Umhuh,” Bellamy hummed.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said soothingly. “I’m going to help you relax. I’m in control. You literally only have one job right now: just lie there and take it.”

Bellamy groaned and Clarke grinned.

Clarke continued to work Bellamy’s foot, pressing into the arch and smoothing over the heal and ball. She then used her thumb and the side of her index finger to pinch all the way around the edge of his foot. Clarke heard Bellamy sigh. She then moved onto Bellamy’s toes, rolling the pad of each in turn, then curling her fingers around the big toe, squeezing and pulling back slowly, twisting her wrist as she went. Bellamy groaned again. Clarke repeated the action, then moved on and did the same to the other toes in turn.

By the time Clarke was replenishing the oil and moving onto the other foot to give it the same treatment, Bellamy already felt as though he was melting into the bed. With every press of Clarke’s thumb and twist of her fingers, Bellamy felt himself sink deeper and deeper. He sighed in pleasure.

After gently laying his feet back on the bed and re-oiling her hands, Clarke twisted her body to face Bellamy and slowly worked her way up the back of one of Bellamy’s legs, pressing deeply into the muscle of the calf and the back of the thigh. By the time she reached the hem of Bellamy’s boxers, Clarke felt Bellamy shift his hips, opening his legs slightly wider. Clarke smiled to herself, then turned her attention to the bottom of the other leg, working her way up slowly with firm, broad strokes. Bellamy breathed out a deep sigh, submitting himself to the steady press and slide of Clarke’s small, strong hands.

Finally, Clarke rose and moved onto the bed to straddle Bellamy, one knee on either side of Bellamy’s hips. She picked up the bottle and gently poured a few drops over Bellamy’s shoulders and down his back. The oil glistened on Bellamy’s skin, slowly running down the slope of his shoulders and pooling a little in the hollow at the base of his spine. Clarke then leaned forwards, took hold of one of Bellamy’s tender shoulders and squeezed gently.

Bellamy released a long, drawn out groan. The corner of Clarke’s mouth twitched in a smile. She smoothed her hands over the area, spreading the oil, then began working the stiff muscles of Bellamy’s shoulders gently.

“Oh, Clarke,” Bellamy sighed.

Clarke looked down at him fondly, keeping up the movement of her fingers and watching the flutter of Bellamy’s eyelashes against his cheeks, the slackness of his jaw, the way his mouth parted slightly to release a long, slow sigh.

“Is this pressure okay, baby?” Clarke asked quietly. “Or do you want it harder?”

“Oh, that feels so good,” Bellamy breathed out. “But, yeah, maybe a little harder, perhaps?”

Clarke increased the pressure of her fingers a fraction and Bellamy groaned.

“Yes, that!” he grunted, “just like that!”

Clarke continued to study Bellamy; eyes closed and face smooth with contentment, half pressed into the mattress. She kept up the pressure of her thumbs, watching the flickers of pleasure flash over Bellamy’s features. When Clarke started to feel the solid muscles of Bellamy’s shoulder begin to soften, she began to work her way up the column of Bellamy’s neck and rub small circles into the delicate place at the base of his skull. Clarke then encouraged Bellamy to roll his head and face the other direction, giving Clarke access to the other side. Finally, she worked her way back down and began her ministrations on the other shoulder. Clarke felt Bellamy shift his hips again.

Clarke worked on the muscles of the shoulder until Bellamy was letting out low, happy hums on every exhale. Only then did Clarke move her hands down in broad strokes over Bellamy’s shoulder blades and down his back, spreading the oil and following the gentle curve of his spine. She then went back to knead the delicate area between Bellamy’s shoulder blade and spine.

“Ooh,” Bellamy jerked suddenly.

Clarke looked at him quickly, “Not good?”

“You just hit a really sensitive bit there,” Bellamy said.

“Sorry,” Clarke said, bending over briefly to press a kiss to the area. She then brought her hands back to the sport and worked the area much more gently.

“Ooooh,” Bellamy breathed out, melting again. “Yeeaah, that’s actually really good. More there please.”

Clarke smiled, and carried on the gently press and slide of her slippery thumbs over Bellamy’s sensitive muscles. Clarke mirrored her actions on the other side of Bellamy’s spine, making sure her attentions were balanced and even.

“Yes,” Bellamy sighed dreamily, completely lost in the push of her strong hands, the soft weight of her resting lightly on his backside and the slow clench and release as his muscles unknotted. He was almost overwhelmed by the moment. He felt so relaxed and heavy he could barely lift his head. But at the same time, he was light and free and untethered. He felt like he might float away, moored only by the firm press of Clarke’s hands on his body. He was distantly aware of a low pressure building in his stomach, a surge and swell that had him twitching his hips again. Unaware, Clarke continued to work down Bellamy’s back, pressing and kneading Bellamy into a state of fuzzy bliss.

“Do you want to roll over so I can do your front?” Clarke asked softly.

Bellamy gave a muffled hum into the mattress.

Clarke lifted onto her knees and shuffled back slightly. She grabbed the towel roll and gently pulled it out from under him as Bellamy languidly twisted his body around between Clarke’s legs and rolled flat on his back. As he settled, the prominent tent in Bellamy’s boxers suddenly became very evident between them.

Clarke grinned and caught his eye, raising an eyebrow. Bellamy looked a little sheepish, but smiled and gave Clarke a quick wink.

Still grinning, Clarke gently poured more oil over Bellamy’s chest and down his arms.

She ignored Bellamy’s erection, instead working her way slowly down his arm, paying particular attention to his hand, kneading into the palm and repeating the pull and twist action on each finger and thumb.

Bellamy sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling in short pants. He shifted his hips again, a steady thrum now pulsing between his legs.

“Clarke,” he breathed, his voice low and needy.

Clarke smiled again and continued to work on Bellamy’s hand. He then started down his other arm, her hands firm and sure. Bellamy groaned and squirmed.

Eventually, Clarke returned to Bellamy’s chest, spreading the oil by running flat hands over his pecs and abs. She relished the feeling of the hard, prominent muscles and her eyes grew dark seeing the way the oil accentuated the swells and grooves of Bellamy’s toned chest. When Clarke’s hand ran over the sensitive skin of the V above his groin, Bellamy gasped and bucked his hips, chasing the direct touch and pressure he craved.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whined shamelessly.

“Huh?” Clarke said, feigning ignorance, her hands still sliding over the smooth mounds and dips of Bellamy’s pecs and abs.

Bellamy’s breath quickened and he released another groan as Clarke’s fingers ran over the hardened nubs of his nipples. The weightless relief Bellamy had felt as his muscles relaxed was now replaced by a new kind of tension. There was a hot coil in his stomach, and he felt a sharp, hot twist when Clarke’s fingertips ran over his nipples again and then dipped down to brush against the very top of the crease of his groin. He could hear his pulse in his ears and feel a thrumming ache building inside him. Inside his boxers, he felt himself twitch again, eager and desperate and leaking.

“Clarke, please,” he begged.

Bringing her hands up to Bellamy’s face, Clarke cupped his cheeks and brought their mouths together in a slow, searing kiss. Bellamy opened his mouth for Clarke, yearning for the push and slide of her lips and tongue. Clarke broke away and Bellamy whined, but Clarke brought her lips low to Bellamy’s ear.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin,” she whispered soothingly, her warm breath fanning over Bellamy’s sensitive skin. “I told you I was going to take care of you.”

Bellamy huffed out a breath, eyes closed, as Clarke ran her tongue around the shell of his ear and then sat back up. She lifted off Bellamy and shuffled until she was kneeling at his side. She carefully lifted the waist band of Bellamy’s boxers, encouraging Bellamy to lift his hips, and then she pulled them down and off. Bellamy’s considerable length sprang free. Clarke took a moment to stare down at him. He was thick and hard and heavy, practically straining and twitching from lack of stimulation. Clarke felt a wave of desire rush through her and pool heavily between her legs. She could already tell she was wet. The low pulse and throb made her want to pull off her panties and sink down onto his hot, hard length and then ride him hard and fast, until the delicious friction and the mounting pressure pushed them both over the edge.

Realising she’s been staring at his erection for a bit too long, Clarke flicked her eyes back to Bellamy’s face and caught sight of his expression as he looked at her, looking at him – pure adoration. And for a second, Clarke’s heart clenched and a wave of something warm and softly golden filled her chest. _Him_ , she thought. _Always him._

She reached for the bottle of oil and picked up where she left off. She poured some of the oil over Bellamy’s groin and generously coated her own hands. She reached down and, finally, gave one firm pull on Bellamy’s length. Bellamy let out a desperate groan and twitched, bucking his hips eagerly to chase the delicious pressure.

However, Clarke let go and instead made a claw shape with her thumb and fingers. She positioned her hand over the tip, the pads of her fingers and thumb resting tantalizingly just below the head. She then began twisting her wrist, her fingers moving over Bellamy’s silky soft skin.

Bellamy gasped, his head coming up and eyes shooting open. He stared blearily at Clarke.

“Clarke… what?” He panted “What’re you…?”

“Sshh,” Clarke soothed. Then, smiling, she added, “also, people who are ‘taking it’ shouldn’t be asking questions.” Bellamy stared up at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed quickly. Clarke winked at him. Bellamy closed his eyes and let his head fall back. His hands fisted the sheet and his chest rose and fell heavily as he submitted to the delicious, barely-there caress of Clarke’s fingers on his aching hardness.

Clarke then changed the rhythm of her fingers. One hand teasing through the scattering of coarse dark hairs, Clarke held the base of Bellamy’s shaft steady and firm. With the fingers of her other hand still resting just under the head, Clarke pinched her fingers together and slowly raked them up over the tip, bringing them together right at the point where a creamy glistening bead was leaking from the slit. Bellamy groaned again, fighting the urge to thrust up. Clarke repeated the action until Bellamy was groaning and panting beneath her, the unfamiliar teasing sensation tortuously delicious, but nowhere near enough.

Letting go briefly, Clarke reapplied oil to her hands and rubbed them together, then, palms flat, he brought her hands to either side of Bellamy’s shaft and pushed one hand forwards, while dragging the other back, then switched the direction and repeated. Bellamy whined. Clarke set a slow rhythm as her hands slid over Bellamy, the alternating push and pull increasing Bellamy’s desire and the throbbing need between his legs.

She then brought her left hand to Bellamy’s balls and rolled them. Then, ever so gently, she squeezed, pulling them away from Bellamy’s body. Her right hand moved back to the head which she covered firmly with her palm and pulled up, slowly twisting her wrist. The gentle pull in opposite directions cause the delicate skin of Bellamy’s sac to stretch and sparks of pleasure to shoot through Bellamy’s veins. Clarke repeated the action, setting a steady rhythm. Bellamy’s breath caught and he gripped the sheets tighter, a surge of sweet pleasure radiating from the firm pull of Clarke’s hands.

The palm of her right hand still circling the head, Clarke let her left hand move under Bellamy’s balls and with firm, oil-slick fingers she gently massaged the delicate flesh of Bellamy’s perineum.

Bellamy grunted; the low push of Clarke’s fingers somehow stimulating from the outside that hidden pleasure spot deep within him.

Panting and unable to remain still, Bellamy alternated between little abortive thrusts up into Clarke’s palm, and grinding down desperately onto the push of her fingers.

“Clarke,” he panted. “Clarke.”

Clarke stared down at him, eyes wide and heart full. She could feel her own desire still throbbing between her legs, but he ignored it, focusing instead on wringing every last drop of pleasure from the man in her hands.

Finally, when Bellamy looked like he couldn’t take a second more, Clarke took hold of him in her hand and closed her fist around Bellamy’s hardness and began pumping up and down with satisfyingly strong, rhythmic pulls. Her left hand kept up the firm massage of Bellamy’s perineum, indirectly stimulating his sensitive prostate gland.

Bellamy keened. After such a slow build, and then the maddeningly teasing touches, just the feeling of Clarke’s hand on him there had Bellamy moaning loudly. As the pressure and the throbbing tension increased, so did the volume of Bellamy’s moans. He gripped the sheets, thrust his hips, screwed up his face and chanted Clarke’s name between an inarticulate string of grunts and cries. He was so hard, so desperately, urgently hard. His world narrowed to delicious friction, the slap of skin-on-skin, and Clarke… Clarke… Clarke… He was close, so wonderfully, painfully close. He caught his breath, his muscles contracted, his balls tightened, and then he was _there_ , and he was cumming, and cumming, and cumming. Thick, hot spurts of cum releasing in wave after pulsing wave.

And then Bellamy was sinking back down, his body flooded with sweet relief and his mind foggy with bliss. He was vaguely aware of Clarke shuffling near him, and then a warm cloth gently wiping over his stomach and his softening length. Then there was Clarke’s hand on his face, stroking her thumb over his eyebrow and down his cheek. Bellamy cracked his eyes open slightly.

“Princess,” he mumbled thickly, staring up groggily, “How do you want me?”

Clarke’s cool lips pressed against his forehead.

“Just like this,” she whispered, pulling the duvet over him. “Tonight is just about you. Just close your eyes and sleep.”

And – limbs heavy and head fuzzy with the afterglow – he did.

*******************************************************

“So,” Bellamy said, looking at Clarke over the top of his cereal. “Last night. What was with that technique at the end?”

Clarke grinned.

They were sitting at their small kitchen table, soft and sleep rumpled. Bellamy’s foot rested lightly against Clarke’s ankle.

“It’s a full body massage technique I learned,” she yawned, bringing her hand up to ruffle through her wild bedhead.

Bellamy raised his eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. “From where?”

“A video,” Clarke said simply.

“Oh right, a video.” Bellamy replied smiling. “The how-to-massage-your-boyfriend-off video. I think I saw that on my Facebook feed recently.” Clarke snorted. “Princess,” Bellamy carried on. “Have you been watching porn without me?” He shot Clarke a mock offended look and clasped a hand dramatically to his heart.

“Oh that,” Clarke blew out, waving a dismissive hand. “It was nothing, just a bit research, nothing more.” Bellamy carried on looking at her, waiting for what he knew was coming. “But…” Clarke winked coyly, “I did get myself off after.” Bellamy laughed.

“To be fair,” Clarke added, “it was that evening you had to stay late for a lecture. And I missed you, and wanted to think of something fun we could do when you got home. But then you were tired, so we just ordered pizza and cuddled on the sofa instead. Came in handy eventually though.”

Bellamy smiled over at her, eyes filled with warmth and affection, his body loose and weightless and still humming with the memory of last night. “You know?” he said slowly. “Just when I think there’s no way I could feel any more for you than I already do, I realise I’m wrong, and I can.”

Clarke simply stared back into Bellamy’s eyes, no answer required. The look they shared was one of pride and respect and deep contentment. It spoke of devotion and aching tenderness and overwhelming joy. They didn’t need any more words. They both just knew.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a long-time reader of Bellarke fics, but I'm new to writing for them - so feedback is more than welcome.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoy 💛🖤


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